Crossfire
by My Wunderwaffle iz missin
Summary: The Spartan-IV 37th Special Shock Division is responsible for among the most covert operations in the entire UNSC. When a 37th team is lost, Fireteam Eon is tasked to find those responsible. The trail leads to a zealous Covenant group who are after more than humanity's destruction. Outgunned and with countless lives on their shoulders, it's just another day being Eon. Eon Volume 2
1. Prologue

**Hello and welcome to the second volume of the Fireteam Eon series. It's been quite an interesting time developing this one as I had a bit of difficulty coming up with a good basis of what I wanted to do. Honestly, I'm not sure what to expect by feedback. I'll just have to wait and see.**

**I don't own Halo.**

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**Halo Installation 02**

**November 9, 2557**

Up in the cloudless blue of the artificial Halo ring, three bulbous purple aircraft graced the skies, passing over rocky outcroppings before spanning out over a pristine blue lake of sparkling water. The trio of T-26 banshees adjusted their approach vector heading to the left.

The T-26 GSA banshee was among the most feared aircraft in the Human-Covenant War. Letting out a high pitched scream gave it the namesake of the wailing Irish woman spirit. A mythical banshee must consume souls to survive; the Covenant embraced this feared name, adding approved modifications to enhance its fear factor on their human enemies.

Armed with twin repeating plasma guns and a fuel road heavy gun, this aircraft was a light armored vehicle built for heavy combat. When needed, booster drives would accelerate the craft to escape incoming danger.

Once the war had ended, large numbers of banshee fighters ended up in the possession of the multiple splinter units. Large numbers were waged in the sangheili civil conflict, which was still ongoing. There were three or four Covenant rogue factions that were particularly dangerous to humanity. The Storm Covenant being the largest and most dangerous of them all.

"That's the fourth group in twenty minutes."

The Spartan took the optics away from his eyes and broke gaze from the fliers. He was outfitted in a glossy distorted set of armor, thanks to the active camo generator concealing his position. When deactivated, there was an emblem of a spotted predatory cat's snarling face with teeth bared in front of a shield shaped backdrop.

Joshua Wiles was the leader of Fireteam Jaguar, one of four teams in the secretive SPARTAN 37th Special Shock Division. Consisting of Spartan-IVs, this group was handpicked by the clichéd best of the best. It was true; a mission couldn't be completed if they had failed. They weren't always used for high-risk, no return ops, but rather under the radar and counter terror operations that could steer clear from the eyes of civilian media. Many of the ever-increasing insurgencies had a 37th team involved, despite being so small.

"Tyrant, are you tracking the enemy air?"

"Affirmative Jaguar. Traffic is unaware of your presence, you're clear to proceed."

"Copy all." Wiles was underneath a large rocky outcropping and stood from his prone position.

Three other figures began to appear in a cross formation. They knelt down on a knee and did a regular inspection. It never hurt to inspect that their gear was in top working order.

"Everyone good?"

The other three members shot back a green light. This was a silent indicator that they were all ready to rock.

"Alright. On me."

Their mission was simple. After the UNSC discovered Halo Installation 02 around the gas giant Reflection, they spotted a previously unnoticed Covenant fleet based around the artificial station. The fleet was one that had been previously loyal to the Prophet of Truth and it was still under belief that it was a fleet that continued to oppose humanity.

Jaguar was there to find out why and what they were up to. One of four teams in the elite thirty-seventh special shock division, they were called in for unconventional, counter-intelligence and black recon operations that were deemed high risk for normal units to operate under. All Spartans were handpicked, going through intensive testing that most other special forces would never dream of.

Patrols were light, surprisingly around the fleet's camp. Recon showed a multitude of bases inside the Forerunner structures where the majority of the force was camped out. No elites were sighted, only brutes being the main backbone of the force here. The fact was alarming, since the overgrown gorillas were barbaric and much more dangerous than their sangheili rivals.

Jaguar had no idea if the Covenant were planning to set off the Halo, which was impossible due to the need of a human being. They were the only species able to activate Halo. However, the fleet could easily jump over to a colony, overpower UNSC or independent colony defenders and abduct more than one human to do the same task.

"This doesn't make sense." Jaguar Two said as they egressed through the forest. "The Covenant here have no motivation at all. At least for activating the Halo."

"I don't like it any more than you." Jaguar Four agreed, "Something's up that the UNSC's not telling us."

"Stay focused. We got a job to do."

"Jaguar this is Tyrant. New orders. You have a column of armored vehicles about a kilo ahead. Possible HVI involved. Investigate and engage if necessary."

"Jaguar copies." Lead switched off the comms, "Okay Spartans. We got an armor convoy ahead. We're going to snoop around and sabotage if we see fit."

"Finally some action." Jaguar Four said, patting the detonation charges on his left leg.

Jaguar Two was on point for five minutes when she halted and held up a fist. They were approaching the convoy and already heard the low rumble of wraith tanks. The sound was unmistakable.

"Hold on. Does something feel off to you?"

"I don't know. Let's keep moving up."

The team finally came up to a slope well hidden in the trees that spanned to a Forerunner floor below. The pathway led over to the outskirts of the Covenant camp where they saw several of the purple structures towering over the trees that bordered another area of the vast installation.

Jaguar Lead slit his throat and laid low to overlook the chain of vehicles. The convoy had four wraith tanks and double that of ghost scout vehicles. The presence of banshees flying overhead was nonexistent, but not unusual, as they must have assumed that they were the only ones occupying the ring.

Once again, activating Halo wasn't this Covenant group's intent. The control center was halfway around the ring and the library containing the Index was elsewhere. Sure they had the teleportation system installed around the ring, but Jaguar was unsure if they acquired the ability to tap into that yet.

The UNSC established small outposts that were mainly off the grid, so a large invasion force wouldn't give them a second glance. This allowed them to monitor the activity of the brute force for a while now. It was merely a massive camp with a handful of warships overhead. It was mostly light cruisers and frigates, so an alarm would be raised if something much more dangerous like a heavy destroyer or a CCS cruiser showed up in the fleet.

Around the convoy of vehicles were groups of unggoy, a few bird-like kig-yar and only a couple of jiralhanae. One noticeable thing about this Covenant was that their weaponry seemed newer, but the armor looked worn and outdated. Some of them wore older models, ones that were seen before the Fall of Reach. The brutes' harnesses were a mixture of their sleek power armor combined with the aesthetics of almost a tribal look.

"If we're going to engage we need to do it now." Jaguar's marksman said. The sniper rifle was propped up and scoped in right on the highest ranking Covenant member there. Slowly the rifle pivoted as the target moved. The center never left the brute's head.

"Jaguar this is Tyrant. We've detected a massive energy source zeroing on your position. Get the hell out of there now!"

"Shit." Jaguar Lead moved back and stood. "We have to go now!"

The other three Spartans already had questions of what was going on, but there was no time. The urgency in Tyrant's voice meant something bad was about to happen.

It happened so fast. An explosion tore right above them, followed by a thud that created immense shock waves. Jaguar lost their footing and fell over. Their Spartan reflexes propped them right back on their feet.

They had no time to turn around to see what had discovered them. All they heard was a mechanical sound of something activating.

Jaguar Lead felt something in his sides and realized that his shields were completely depleted. Pain began to flare into his side as he found himself lying down.

"Jaguar come in!" Tyrant said. Lead had not known that Tyrant had been attempting to raise them ever since they were attacked.

With barely enough strength, he looked over. A massive pool of blood and giant spikes were in his right side. Easily one and a half times the size of the normal brute spiker pistols, all pain that the hot metal was searing into his body made it numb. He looked over and saw three more limp forms. His team had similar fates, the only difference being was that they had already passed.

"Josh talk to me!"

"Ambush." Jaguar Lead's body went limp. The last thing that went through his mind was the fact that he had let his team, his unit and most of all, he let himself down.

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**I also have a multitude of other projects going on right now, but I'll continue to write whenever I can.**

**Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


	2. Raid I

**Forests of Cyrus VII**

**November 9, 2557**

There was no way I could ever get into the Spartan-IV thirty seventh special shock division on my own.

Not by an application, no recommendations, not even a job opening online. They would find you.

And find me they did.

I heard that there had been many controversies surrounding the unit, requirement of a relationship meaning a discharge if it wasn't fulfilled, stricter guidelines than its cousin units. That sparked a huge debate that lasted weeks, ending up with it being removed, but it still was a touchy subject, as many had believed that its repeal took away the unit's unique nature.

Hell, if they even removed it, it still didn't take away how dark our operations go.

This was supposed to be a "walk in the park" especially for my first time taking a squad out. It's always like those times whenever you study hard for that history, science or math test and still screw up.

Cyrus VII was a moderate planet, being one of two in the Cyrus Theta System. Much news after the war against the Covenant Empire involving here was non-existent. Mostly because this place was completely out of the way of most major settlements, one of the closest to the galactic center, but not by much.

Well it was a very bad day to be living here, especially when closer to smaller cities and rural areas.

Multiple loose organized syndicates basically dominated any wilderness area, involved in any black market stuff. Drugs and weapons trafficking, check. Armed insurgency; check. What made the place even worse was that most of these groups were fighting one another all the time. The UNSC had negotiated a cease-fire long ago, but it was violated by the same group we were hunting now. Add a few stolen Spartan Laser rifles to the stuff stolen and you've got a priority thing with urgency. Those lasers would incinerate any vehicle, tank, aircraft, you name it.

"Pine, what's your status?" I shouted over the gunfire erupting from the thicket ahead. That was followed by more gunshots coming from behind me.

"Established a proper overwatch at the tallest tree. Thermal signatures advancing on your position. I see SMGs and shotties over."

Oh that's right. I forgot to tell you about myself.

My military designation is Eon Lead but my real name and rank is Captain Jacob Oliver Bowman. I previously was in the Navy operating as a multi-terrain Special Forces operator or MTSFO. It wasn't as famous as ODSTs or SEALs, but then again, we weren't a very large unit anyway. We still fought the Covenant to a bloody end in unconventional circumstances.

I was found by the unit's founder and placed in this Fireteam Eon, one of the four-man teams in the Thirty Seventh Special Shock Division. Training commenced the day I accepted.

Then before I could even get my bags on the floor of my barrack quarters, I was whisked away on a Pelican heading for a UNSC frigate along with the other three members, bound for this hell-hole of a world, at least for the backcountry that is.

I wear a standard Warrior MJOLNIR GEN2 armor in the same colors as the rest of my team, jet black with a cyan colored visor. The commander had said that the techs would be able to help me request more suitable armor components afterwards. My armament was my preference MA5D rifle as well as an M6J handgun.

That gunfire was the response of the C7DF or the Cyrus Seven Development Force. They were the elite-counterterrorist force of the colony, funded and run by the local CAA, since UNSC personnel was bare-minimum here. We were assigned to work with about a dozen of their operators after the air traffic radar had spotted a registration number that was on the watch list and had known ties to several elements both good and bad. It was headed to an airstrip just outside of a small city.

The cargo was rumored to be a product called "Pumpkin" Normally; it would be beneficial, as this was produced originally in medical labs to help cure a few complex named illnesses. However, one bright syndicate leader had decided to mix it with one of the common explosives. Guess what? Yep, it just about multiplied its destructive power. It's unique and truly alarming fact was that it was a bit reminiscent of plasma arms used by the Covenant. Thus, they had the potential to make plasma explosive based weapons.

"Austal, retrieve the drone before it gets damaged!" I shouted. Crouching down in one knee, I fired short bursts at the opposite muzzle flashes. My HUD tracked the hostile's movements, even informing me as I continued to drop my targets. The hostiles were clothed with barely any body armor and fought like they were just given a rifle and told to take cover and shoot.

"We got em on the run!" Eon Four shouted. "Hit em!"

A thunderstorm of shots rang out from my left, one of the C7DF carrying a machine gun and raining suppressive fire. The belt fed weapon had up to a hundred and fifty rounds and was devastating with a portable bipod whenever crouched or lying prone on the ground. The stability of it makes it much more accurate, as recoil would thrash the user around and put a lot of strain to put well-placed rounds downrange.

I heard Spartan Ross Pine, our marksman fire across the forest from his position up top of a tree. The shots were like the grim reaper, striking doom over and over again. If the thugs didn't get the message that they were outgunned and out trained, then the sniper was sure to plant a seed of doubt in their minds.

I even doubted that I would be able to fight properly. Normally not my biggest problem, as I've fought every single type of insurrection and Covenant imaginable and more…on every single type of hellish terrain possible. However, the buzzing disease carrying mosquitoes constantly flitted around my visor wasn't the only thing making me uncomfortable. I was forced to swat at them, more for a clear sight rather than being bitten. Good luck trying to drill your way through a MJOLNIR suit buddy.

"Eon Lead, I have you covered."

"I copy Austal." I leaned out; peppering another enemy with his rounds just as a loud whoosh came from over head, followed by Austal's panicked voice.

"Boss get down!"

I broke cover and dove for the ground.

Just as the rocket curved less than two feet over my head.

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Spartan Marcus Austal was about twenty feet from Captain Bowman, behind a fallen moss-coated log, mostly keeping his head out of harm's way while he operated the team's moth drone. He held a portable tablet in one hand which he shielded with his body from the rocket and an M6 pistol in the other, guiding the dual end rotor device with an attached infrared camera along with a half dozen other sensors to sniff out enemies.

His position was a bit to the right of everyone else's front and he saw hostiles closing in on Bowman's position.

He thumbed the controls, causing the moth to hover just in front of where the trio of insurgents were advancing. They moved with camouflaged clothing, something that made them undetectable to any of the Cyrus forces, but it was odd if they escaped the Spartan's sensors.

Guiding the moth right behind the moving enemies, Austal keyed the drone's integrated microphone and said something inside.

If the rebel grew up in New Corsica or another French speaking country, he would have understood that Austal said, "_Your mother looks like chicken shit."_

However, all Austal needed was his attention. The man raised his weapon at the tiny machine, ready to shoot it out of the air.

A flash suddenly came from the drone and the rebel stumbled, disoriented from the sudden action. His itchy trigger finger caused him to fire a couple of rounds from his automatic submachine gun. The two comrades in front also turned around to see what unfolded.

In Austal's mind, it was a perfect marriage of attention and ingenuity. Diverting the enemy for Bowman to attack.

"Get em boss!" He cried.

The lead Spartan raised his rifle and drilled nine rounds in a stream of full auto. One that dropped the trio like robots whose power supply had been severed.

He set the drone to idle and moved it above the forest canopy. The airfield was about a mile from the outskirts of the town and he could see general aircraft parked in the vicinity. No sign of the target vehicle from his perspective. But they had established a radar pattern over the area to make sure their craft was at the right place.

A rustle of leaves came to his right and he quickly put the operating datapad on his belt. The active camo module turned on and he melted into the background. He could still hear the chattering of automatic weapons and the popping sounds of the older rebel arms.

Just as two armored rebels came straight through. One of them pushed aside a branch from a nearby tree while the other had his gun aimed, ready to shoot the threat if he sprang out.

"I thought I heard him over here somewhere." One of them said as they spread out. The other knelt down where the Spartan had been controlling the drone, flinching as the sound of a grenade exploded in the distance. Austal was less than six feet away from the one searching and every moment passed by, the rebel came closer.

He had a good grip and a quick drawing reflex on his MA5D assault rifle, but the problem was that he would be gunned down as soon as he picked a shot on one of them. They were jumpy and that contributed to fast reactions.

"There he is!" One of the rebels cried.

Austal had been discovered.

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Spartan Ross Pine kept his crosshairs trained on the rebel as he moved with his partner.

He knew that the two had broken off because they were aware of Austal's position. This was confirmed when he saw the younger Spartan activate his camo just in time to temporarily avoid being found. Years of sniping, both against insurrectionists and Covenant had told him to read the signs. It wasn't something that was bought or earned. It was honed by hunters from experience in the field.

Yep, it looked like the skinny New Corsican kid was dead if Pine didn't peg at least one of them. He had no idea why he was hiding. Maybe a taunt? Not wanting to compromise his location?

Even from a distance, he could tell that the rebels' body language was tense. Once they found the hidden Austal, he let loose.

The sniper rifle boomed across the forest, leaving a smoky white trail that followed the bullet as it capped one of them. This all happened just a split second after he had been made.

Austal drilled the second rebel not a moment later.

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**Our heroes are back! Well at least some of them are. More to come!**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


	3. Raid II

**Forests of Cyrus VII**

**November 9, 2557**

Five minutes of firefighting later, the team had pushed the rebels back to the airfield. Nobody was present, at least out in the open. However, the fighters quickly scrambled up a fence that surrounded the compound, their gloves and boots designed to negate the electric shock that it was transmitting. While it was a problem for the Cyrus troops, the Spartans easily shrugged it off thanks to their shields. Austal and Bowman snipped a good man sized hole in the side and advanced through.

A chatter of gunfire suddenly brought them up. At the other side of the strip was a mounted machine gun, spewing lead. Rounds began to stitch the two Spartan's shields as they wordlessly ducked and sprinted back into the forest.

"Shit." Bowman looked out again, automatically keeping his head down as bullets struck the nearby tree trunks. "What the hell are we gonna do now?" He keyed his comms to the C7DF captain, a man named Valdez. "Captain Valdez, we're under heavy fire by enemy nest. Requesting a diversion."

"Roger that Captain." Valdez drawled, "I'll send em over."

Movement caught Bowman's eye as he watched the C7DF move to their right, firing a few bullets. The machine gun responded in kind, spraying a hail in that direction. Away from the Spartans.

A sharp crack came from above as Pine had centered his aim onto target and sniped the gunner out.

"Austal, get the drone over the airfield and scope out any hostiles. I want to know where they ran off to."

"I'm on it."

"The rest of you on me. Watch your sectors."

Like silent phantoms the Spartan and his joint operators emerged from the thicket. Silence was over the airfield thick enough to be cut with his folded razor knife. Dark clouds loomed above and by the time he entered the perimeter, he could see fat drops of rain pelting on his armor. The C7DF soldiers' breath began to condense, as if they were dragons with steam exhaling out of their mouths and nostrils.

"Boss," Austal came back online, "No sign of the rebels. They may have fled back into town. Storm's making it hard to see anything."

"Okay." Bowman replied, "We'll check out our target vehicle. Have Fowler rendezvous with us back."

"Roger."

The field didn't support any commercial transport and its small size made it adequate for short range vehicles headed around this world or to a couple of neighboring planets.

Judged by his waypoint, he found the target inside the open hangar, abandoned but all cleaned up and ready for her journey. Still, he held back when he saw a couple of pings coming from inside the closest door. Hostiles.

A grenade was tugged free and he was about to pull the pin.

"No!" Valdez cried.

He charged the larger Spartan, with enough determination to tackle him over. The grenade slipped out of his hand minus its pin and it rolled towards the engine.

In one swift motion, one of the C7 guys scooped it up and hurled it straight out the open doors of the hangar. It detonated as soon as it hit the tarmac, showering bits of metal and concrete over the area and leaving a three foot crater in the center.

"What the hell?"

Valdez got up, casting a dark look at the door. "I saw it too. Trust me, you don't want to open it."

The teams gathered around the hold and Valdez quickly yanked the hatch open.

At least twenty containers held hydrogen fuel and even more containers of their target.

Pumpkin was brownish white in appearance and had the consistency of coarse salt. Volatile stuff.

A gunshot, let alone a grenade was enough to send them into the sun.

"Well it certainly isn't making vodka."

"Damn it." Bowman threw his arms in frustration, "This is bullshit."

"Mind filling me in?"

That was Brett Fowler, a volatile mouthed Spartan who always questioned stuff. It didn't even matter if he was talking to the head of ONI. Needless to say, Fowler's attitude and Bowman's by-the-book ideals were like oil and water.

"This was a diversion. The Pumpkin isn't the objective, but we need those Spartan Lasers."

"Any idea where they could have gone?"

"Maybe into town. This is the only fast way out of the area for at least a hundred miles."

"Can we get an extract?"

Valdez met him at the doorway, just as local police began to arrive. "We can't get an LZ with this weather if it holds. Which it isn't. There's another storm coming."

"Then we go by hogs." Austal could scout ahead with the drone while they went en route. The rebels would have had a head start, as moving them towards the airfield made it a bit longer to navigate out to the country again. The nearest spaceport was in a metro area hundreds of miles out and they were on the far side of that.

"Alright. Get Fowler up here."

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**It's double update day! I posted another update for my separate project which is a short chapter as well. More to come soon.**

**Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


	4. Raid III

**Cyrus VII**

**November 9, 2557**

The Spartan-IV Thirty Seventh Special Shock Division had a straightforward and streamlined method of getting information from their superiors to the operators themselves. Bowman and every other member of Eon knew that intel could go moldy in a day, hour, minute or second. To that end, one of the unit's founders, callsign: Tyrant was in a video chat in Bowman. The warthog was an open vehicle and drops of rain pelted on the tablet computer, but it maintained focus, despite the weather. Beside Bowman, Pine steered the wheel right behind the lead vehicle.

Not much light had been shed on his past, but Tyrant had an exceptional record in his time against the Covenant. He had become a Spartan-IV due to his concept of the 37th, a need for a multipurpose elite unit that was above the elite. The 37th was truly the best of the best Spartans, but Tyrant's influence was the reason they were feared and respected by everyone.

"Hello Tyrant." Bowman kept his tone curt.

"Good to see you too Eon Lead." Tyrant used Eon Lead as the call sign, "Our sat drone needs about another five minutes to reposition, although I don't know if we'll get any results from that."

"We'll get a check on that."

"I've got some bad news. This came about five minutes ago."

"Is this about the op?"

Tyrant shook his head, "When we're done here. Our unit hasn't been hit this hard before. Jaguar has been killed."

Bowman saw Pine's breath go short. Jaguar was Eon's fellow fireteam in the unit and their primary wargame rival. Something didn't stick when a team was all killed, especially by surprise.

"When you're back, we're going to have a quick memorial service. Plus I have letters to write to families that their son, daughter or whatever isn't coming back."

"Are they marked MIA?"

"Affirmative. Once you're done on Cyrus, we're going after those sons of bitches. We need to focus on the task at hand. Refrain from telling any of the others until the op is complete."

"Pine knows. He's driving next to me."

"Keep it from Fowler and Austal then. I know he can keep his word."

"And I will." Ross said.

"Good. I'll get back to you for any updates. Tyrant out."

"Jaguar man."

Bowman nodded, "You would have made great MTSFOs. All of you would."

Pine laughed, "I don't fancy that."

"So how was Jaguar?"

"Jaguar? Oh they were great people. You know, operators who have families and friends outside. But they're hardcore in combat and deadly opponents. They're really the only guys that we struggle against in combat. You know, virtual combat."

Bowman nodded.

"Listen, I heard about it."

"About what?"

"Never mind."

Bowman's gaze iced up, "Pine you better tell me now or I'm going to dwell on it the rest of the time."

"It's just, Tyrant told me about your ex-wife."

"I don't talk about it. I wish he hadn't told you."

Ross looked back out to the front, "Me too."

Eon Lead shook his head and activated his comms. "Austal, what do you have for me?"

In the lead warthog, Fowler was at the wheel while Austal remotely controlled their scout moth drone. Rain was pooling in the bottom of the warthog, running down their C7DF man's boots as he stood vigilantly, looking ahead with the vehicle's M41 LAAG. Austal wished that there would be a closed door warthog variant, because soon enough he was going to be ankle deep in water in the vehicle. He never was really much of a swimmer.

Just at the fringe of his sight, the drone zoomed over the treetops like a heron over a grey lake. The feed from the sensors went back to a datapad on the Spartan's lap. A datapad that was getting wet nonstop and Austal had to frustratingly wipe it off constantly. Still, nothing appeared on his display. The battery was beginning to deteriorate and the wind gusts were nearing forty miles an hour.

"Eon Lead, Austal. The backup battery on the moth is down to ten minutes. I've got to reel her in before the storm hits."

"Roger that. Before you do, get her as high up as you can."

Austal complied, thumbing his pad once more. The feed became a little more grainy as it went upwards. Winds began to buffet the machine, causing him to temporarily fight the controls. In the distance, Valdez's prediction of a storm rang true. The dark clouds loomed to the left like a giant invading mothership.

"How you liking the new boss?" Fowler asked from the driver's seat.

"Good."

The older Spartan snorted, "Yeah, what do you mean by good?"

"I like him."

"Think he's better than Lusana?"

"They're two completely different leaders."

"To hell with that. Really?"

Austal thought about it for a moment.

Captain Anthony "Tony" Lusana was a thirty seven year old African American hailing from Houston of the URNA. He formed a deep bond with them leading some of the highest risking missions Eon had undertaken through Ariel, Flint and New Corsica, where they had put down a devious radical group attempting to overthrow the current UEG body. He was a family man with two kids, a third on the way and was married to a school district superintendent. He was easily the most level headed and ice cold guy Austal had never known, not to mention a bit of a father figure since the young Spartan had no immediate family himself.

The bullets could be flying everywhere, explosions going off meters away or even the lives of thousands on the line, but never had Austal or any others of Eon see Lusana put everyone at east. He was currently enjoying an extended leave to spend more time with his family. Seeing his happy life made Austal want to model after his Eon Lead.

The 37th had put their four-man teams through various leaders. The leads would rotate through various teams until natural selection put them into a good set of operators they worked best with. There was one team on hold which Lusana had been rotated to. News surfaced of a new Eon Lead scheduled to take them out had unnerved Austal, even when they said he was coming from the Navy. He was put at ease when Cardinal…now Tyrant had spoken highly of a Captain Jacob Oliver Bowman. Even better was that Bowman had told Marcus that he had two uncles on his mother's side who were born in Ville de Lombard of New Corsica.

It was unsurprising that Fowler had an issue with the new Captain, who was a member of what he dubbed "The Space Canoe Club"

"I get the idea that Bowman thinks he's above us. You know, the special forces ODSTs. The better ones than normal who get all the holo movie hype. Arrogant bastard, using us to throw in his time and record."

Austal looked over at Fowler, "When did you get that idea?"

"First time I saw him."

"Why you afraid of trying something new?"

"Right so we watch the Marines vs Navy game. Who the fuck you think he's going to root for?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Aw hell. I'm talking to the wrong guy."

"Well I think Ross likes him and if he does, then I'm good to go. Besides, when we're out here, none of this really makes a difference."

Brett muttered something under his breath and rolled his eyes, "Are you in awe of him?"

"Who wouldn't be? Colonial Cross, Legion of Honor and two Purple Hearts."

"We ain't here for a medal."

"Then what are you complaining about? That's pretty much legit enough for anyone. Well, except for you."

Fowler shook his head, "You're just another one of those fanboys."

"At least give him a chance."

"Oh I'll give him one all right." Austal looked over as he tapped the button to call the moth drone back to him. "I'll show him how we get shit done. He may look all preppy, but I want to know all of his weaknesses."

"Well that's great. I guess."

"It is. I'm not done training you yet."

"You amaze me."

Fowler grinned, "One day little brother, you'll amaze me too."

A movement on the drone feed caught Austal's eye. He continued to pilot it, ignoring the warning signal that the battery was nearly depleted.

"We got movement."

"Where at?"

"About a kilometer to our eleven. Three vehicles heading in the same direction we are." He switched on the radio, "Eon Lead, we have contacts about a kilo up about eleven. Could be our guys."

"Affirmative. Keep pace and we'll close to intercept."

Austal looked back at the display and seeing the screen made him do a double take.

"Boss, you might want to see this."

Bowman gave a perplexed look at the relay feed. "Zoom in."

When he did, his eyes widened in success. "Oh, now I see it."

Underground smuggling was much of a past thing, having started as early as when bad people walked. From then it was used to evade detection for everything illegal. Drugs, weapons, people. When it came a breakthrough in the twentieth century of satellite coverage, many smuggling routes were discovered and it seemed it was all an end to this illegal transport with eyes in the sky.

However, now the underground tunnels were the one thing to still avoid detection. Sensors placed above could sense vibrations and pinpoint their sources, but then someone invented a lining that could be placed around the walls of the tunnel to minimize them and make any detection obsolete.

It seemed as if every breakthrough in trying to snuff out smuggling meant there was always something to counter its never-ending activity.

The tunnel was wide enough to drive a scorpion tank through and Bowman saw that an enormous tarp colored in a similar shade of green was piled nearby. Once the smugglers had left, a crew would place the tarp back over the hole and cover it with vegetation to make it nearly invisible.

The nexus of tunnels ran for miles until they ended near private fields where smuggling transports would take them off world to colonies with the demand for illegal stuff.

The passageways could take countless money and time to construct and in all, was enough to supply the colony of Ariel with contraband for three months, depending on how many vehicles would be involved.

Austal brought the moth atop a small tree branch and steadied the view. The tunnel was opened and he saw a handful of trucks, one of them already cleared to head inside.

To the left, there was a small convoy of warthogs, battered ones with armor patched and their chainguns removed. Instead, there were smaller fifty caliber pea-shooter light support weapons.

About two dozen men were moving about, loading and unloading, but Austal's eye focused to the right.

There, he saw the distinctive shape of the N6 Spartan Laser as one of the smugglers hefted one into the closest truck. The weapon held a devastating laser beam capable of cutting straight through armor, flesh and shields. It was the most expensive small arm weapon fielded by the UNSC, but its cost was dwarfed by nuclear weapons.

In the wrong hands, a few Spartan Lasers were enough to decimate an entire column of scorpion tanks or swat pelicans easily out of the sky. Without a doubt, these weapons were among the most closely guarded in the arsenal. How rebels got their hands on some was unknown. All that mattered was getting it back.

Austal recoiled when he saw the display go blank again. "The hell?"

"What's going on?"

"I lost the signal!"

* * *

**The battery die? Or did something else happen?**

**Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


	5. Raid IV

**Cyrus VII**

**November 9, 2557**

Captain Valdez was less than enthusiastic when Bowman had relayed the information.

"The rebel group here is basically causeless. They're taking up arms to simply make the place dangerous. No movements to overthrow the government. They're tough and sometimes, they know how we work. Some of them defected from my unit and others come from other nasty groups like the New Colonial Alliance."

"You're not bailing on me are you captain?"

"I am with you one hundred. However, this will be dangerous. If there is a hell on Cyrus, this place is it."

"We have the storm on our side. I've got a man fixing up our scout drone and we'll be able to strike silently. So far, we haven't detected any motion sensors."

"Very well. We'll come in from the north and await your go."

"Roger that." Bowman cut the connection and signaled Austal and Fowler. "You boys ready to wrap this up?"

"Better hurry." Fowler said, "Looks like they're getting ready to go."

"I see em."

"Austal, where is that drone?"

"Not sure sir. But now's not the time to look for it."

Bowman was about to argue about that when he saw Pine in front of him hold up a fist and then flatten his gloved hand into a palm. Both Spartans dropped prone on the ground and slowly crawled ahead, like a pair of lizards observing flies.

"Fowler, Austal. Shake em up a little."

"Roger that." Tapping the younger Spartan's shoulder, they crept out in the open, active camo modules making them nearly invisible. There was about twenty feet of open ground that shimmered as they stalked across.

On their HUDs, Bowman marked a pair that had drifted a bit off from the rest of their party. They stood at the back hatch of the truck with the lasers, most likely tampering them so that it wouldn't be identified if it passed a UNSC checkpoint. The Spartans had them outlined to reveal their exact position and where they were facing.

Fowler saw them up ahead and pressed forward. He reached out where he couldn't be seen and tapped the side of the vehicle. His eyes remained glued to the outlines, watching as one of them began to approach.

At such a close range, he could easily be spotted by even grunts. However, his attention was all that was needed.

"What's wrong?" His partner asked.

"I heard something." The gunman replied, looking where Fowler had been. He relocated across the vehicle's other side, where the lasers were. It was a good amount of firepower, he gave an estimate that nearly one and a half dozen rifles were in the bed.

Fowler saw the first gunman standing a little more alert. A green light blinked.

Austal was in position.

Fowler was now focused on the partner, standing idly. He tapped the side again, tuning down the power of his camo to make him slightly more visible.

The guard's reaction wasn't especially quick. Fowler took the best advantage of that.

"Hey!" The Spartan whispered.

When he whirled around, something lunged from behind. Austal's hand was like a vice around his mouth and the knife he wielded was sharp as a scalpel. It was plunged straight down into the rebel's throat and the two fell back into the brush. Marcus easily held down as the dying man thrashed uselessly against him. It took a while, but he finally laid the corpse down.

"Target down."

"You're too much of a show off." Fowler shook his head. The second rebel had called out his partner's name and moved right back to where they had been originally standing. As he passed where the Spartan was hiding, he lunged straight out. His M90 CAWS shotgun striking low and causing the careless soldier to trip. Fowler slammed the stock of the weapon into the forehead and he was out like a light.

"Both targets down."

"Affirmative." Bowman said, "We're attacking in thirty. Keep yourselves concealed. Rest of you, don't move position. Fowler and Austal are responsible for tagging and flushing out enemies."

He got a chorus of affirmatives, from Valdez, Pine and the squad leaders of the C7DF. A timer began counting down on their HUDs.

Waiting in an ambush seemed to slow down time. It gave them all the opportunities to think how haywire it was going to be. One mishap and Bowman's plan was over.

"You ready little brother?" Fowler asked once the timer hit five.

"As I'll ever be."

The timer reached zero.

"Go!" Bowman gave the signal.

Simultaneously, seven different angles of fire erupted unseen in the thick brush. Multiple targets were felled.

Fowler dashed over to cover, his suit's camo deactivating due to the sudden movement. He reached his destination, but a pair of rebels saw the movement and opened fire. He tagged one of the HUD, causing Bowman himself to drill a few bullets into his back.

Austal rushed over, slamming the back of his own rifle into the rebel. Reeling over, he finished him off with a few shots as well.

More rapping gunfire sounded from the other side and finally subsided into silence.

"Clear?" Bowman asked.

"Clear." Pine replied, "No hostiles in sight."

"All my teams report clear." Valdez said.

"Alright. Converge on the convoy."

Silently, the groups rendezvoused at the huddle of vehicles. Except for the lasers, Valdez had his men begin searching for contraband.

"Where's Fowler and Austal?" Bowman asked as Pine shuffled over to the truck with the lasers.

The latter shook his head as he examined the boxes, "Chrome Paint. Covers up the scanner so that it is unidentifiable by checkpoints. Looks like these weapons were meant to be smuggled into UNSC territories."

Bowman knew that Spartan Lasers were difficult to get, even for UNSC forces. So even one rifle would be a very good price as well as countless motivated buyers, waiting to wreak havoc on UEG soil.

"Stand by." Bowman sent Pine and Valdez to transfer their reclaimed weapons. "Tyrant, this is Eon Lead."

A few seconds later, the screen popped up on the datapad. Tyrant dismissed someone next to him before turning to face the camera.

"Good to see you Eon Lead. What's the word?"

"Spartan Lasers and contraband secure. Everyone wins on this one."

Tyrant gave a nod, "We're still investigating on our end to see how they got stolen and how we were unable to track it. In the meantime, I've got some new intel headed your way. I have a Sec One Agent from Naval Intelligence to brief you. We're going after whoever killed Jaguar. See you all back on base."

"Really? Why don't you just tell me yourself?"

"That's classified Eon. Tyrant out."

Austal found the drone wedged about twenty feet up between a forked branch. He had the second moth flitting about as his fingers danced over the screen, attempting to knock its cousin free. What at first, was a simple task became tedious and frustrating by the second. Squinting through the increasing rain and the flashing alarm of the second drone's last minutes of battery made any more attempts futile, not to mention that he was afraid if he persisted, he'd risk damaging both drones.

"It's not working." He told Fowler. "Can you climb up and get it?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Hey," Austal feigned fatigue, "I don't feel good."

"Right and my arm hurts too. Not to mention that my skills at being a monkey suck ass."

"You dizzy too?"

"No."

Austal glared through his visor, "Then come on."

"You so owe me." Fowler muttered before cursing under his breath. He threw his weapon at the younger Spartan, who caught it in midair. He reached up to the nearest limb and pulled himself up.

"Hey, you know the last time I climbed a tree?"

"When you were a kid on a grav gym?"

"No stupid. When I was back on New Llanelli as an ODST, these kids were flying around those toy pelicans just hours after the Covenant invasion. One of them had it stuck in a tree and began crying for me to go get it down. Well after I begin getting up there, these two asshole jackals begin shooting at me with their needler rifles. Took two in the hip before my man Haynes vaporizes em with a rocket. I mean, how are you liking that shit? You're trying to get a toy for a kid and these assholes decide to shoot at me like a fly on the wall. That's why I hate cowards like that. Jackals with their name written all over it. Got no respect for them."

"Well did you get the toy?" Austal was now craning his neck up.

"Yeah I got it, but it was full of holes."

"Like Swiss cheese." Marcus made an Mmm sound, no doubt thinking of food.

"Don't you dare talk about food right now."

"Why, you hungry?"

"Man, I could eat an entire fuckin tray of lasagna right now."

"Pizza too. Ten slices."

"At least." Fowler leaned as far as he could towards he stuck drone, outstretching his free left hand, fingers literally inches from the end of the machine. "It's too far away. I can't reach it."

He shifted some more, halting when sharp sounds of cracking came from the branch underneath. It was beginning to buckle.

"Oh hell."

A final desperate lunge managed to get the moth knocked free. It plummeted down rapidly.

Austal dove for it like a wide receiver at a football game. His hands outstretched and closed gently around the delicate machine. "Gotcha!"

"Alright kid. You now owe me one extra." Fowler stepped to the branch's other side, but he let out a yelp of surprise when his foot suddenly gave out and the broken branch fell to the ground. He had no time for reflex grabs as his hand slid right off the slick branch and he plummeted straight down.

Austal looked up right in time to see Fowler's fall, right above him. Acting on instinct, he stepped back and charged forward a split second later. He hit Fowler just in time to save him from a back breaking fall. However, the force had tumbled them over each other and they both lay side by side at the stump of the tree.

Brett shifted, letting out a low groan and wincing from the newfound pain in his arms and leg.

"You okay?" Austal knelt in front of him with a depolarized visor, a streak of crimson trailing from his nose. When he exhaled, a splatter of blood exploded out and smeared the inside of the visor. "Aw shit. This is friggin perfect."

Fowler actually smiled at his misfortune, "Brother, it is going to take more beer to pay for this one than you can afford."

With the operation finished, Valdez's men found only one survivor that was barely conscious. He had a butt hit on the back of his head and was out to sleep for a good five hours.

When his comrades found him, he was shaken and traumatized. He was speaking in a nervous voice, as if they could still hear them.

Before he fainted from the shock again his words were, "We never saw them."

* * *

**With the Spartan Lasers back in the hands of the UNSC everyone can go back to their original business. Right?**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


	6. Takeover I

**Firebase Noble, Reach**

**November 12, 2557**

The service for Jaguar was short and informal. The two other fireteams in the 37th, Regal and Bishop had been present as well as holograms of the small number of Spartans on extended leave. Lusana included.

"Cedo Nulli. I yield to no one. Not only did Jaguar go above and beyond what the call of duty asked, but they were good people. Inside and out. No doubt that they remained unyielding even at the time of their deaths."

Tyrant stood in the center, holding four sets of dog tags, each one belonging to one of Jaguar. In the center of the chamber stood four large boxes, holding the bodies of their fallen. The other 37th Spartans stood around, all with puzzled and uncertain looks on their faces, something that seldom happened. "I'll never forget them on a personal level. They never deserved to die like this."

"Then what's the plan?" Fowler asked. His question was on every other Spartan's mind.

Tyrant gave an equally hardened gaze. "Track them, find them and kill them."

Eon was in the briefing room of their section at Firebase Noble obtaining their pre-mission synopsis. Tyrant had earlier dispatched Fireteam Regal to Installation 02 in an ONI corvette to recover their fallen comrades. They had less than twenty-four hours to find out what happened to Jaguar or Regal would suffer a similar fate. Thankfully, they had escaped without being compromised and managed to gather quite a lot of intel Tyrant was about to share with Eon.

"You do know that Jaguar's report to HIGHCOM was about them dying in a disaster onboard Halo?" Bowman asked. When Tyrant nodded, he continued, "Halo's supposed to be stable. The only atypical thing that could cause a disaster is something artificial."

The rest of Eon eyed their commander curiously.

Tyrant knew that he'd eventually have to come out with the truth. He was sending Eon out to plot their next move against the killers but they needed to be back at full capacity. It did no good to send an Eon Lead who had been whisked away onto the field hours after being certified to be a Spartan.

"You're correct Eon Lead. Jaguar's death wasn't at the hands of a disaster. At least a natural one." He looked at the holotank in the center, a wide five by four foot display. "Hades are you there?"

"I certainly am." The AI materialized onto the table in a swirl of blue light.

Hades, being the 37th's primary liaison between Tyrant and field teams wore a plain black shirt and pants and he had shaved his head bald. His signature item was an electric guitar, covered in various designs from time to time. This time, it had four hands crossed together with the initials of the fallen.

"Listen, I'm so sorry about what happened."

"Save it." Tyrant said, sharing the sympathy, but not wanting to keep it going. "Eon's here."

"Already? I thought they were going to rest up."

"We're good to go." Bowman sharply said.

"Bring up the file on Jaguar's deaths."

"Yes sir." Hades vanished. "Want me to step off?"

"Please. This is something I want Eon to hear in private. Cut off all recording devices until I issue the clear."

"You got it."

Tyrant tapped the data and it expanded onto the holotank. "Three days ago, one of the UNSC's deep space scanners on Halo Installation two had malfunctioned. Engineers don't know why or how. So we sent in a repair team who went MIA after checking in twice. Additional recon drones later spotted a Covenant assault force numbering a significant size. It's a large fleet, but not as large as the one that hit Reach. We presume they are responsible for the lost contact and initially hostile."

The Spartans nodded, knowing that the attack on Reach involved one of the largest Covenant fleets ever seen loomed over its darkened skies. Photographers had captured some eerie and chilling images, such as a significant one of a quartet of cruisers emerging from the horizon of clouds, like giant black monsters waiting to claim the helpless below.

"Jaguar was sent in because of our stealth reputation. They carried ample equipment to properly diagnose the scanner and repair it. Needless to say, its malfunctioning should have been a dead giveaway that it was compromised. Still, I gave the order." Tyrant turned away, guilt in his eyes. "The force was primarily brutes. They discovered Jaguar and killed them."

"You sent them to their deaths." Pine breathed.

"Yes. All of them. They knew the risks and took on the task without a second thought. It's hard bearing the brunt of all of it. I have to write letters to all of their families. One little drawback to our unique unit regulations."

"Good thing that's been abolished."

"I suppose so. We're working with ONI on our end to find out how Jaguar was discovered." The teams were all part of Tyrant himself. Their greatest successes and failures were shared alike.

The 37th had a unique requirement prior to entering in the unit. The use of a healthy relationship with someone else, regardless was required to be even considered for qualification inside. The idea was to believe that someone married, engaged, etc was less likely to make reckless mistakes and uphold a vow to return home alive.

Austal was nearly kicked out of the unit due to that rule. Now with it gone, the spectrum broadened up to new potential recruits previously rejected due to this term.

"I suppose that's the price we bear for the UNSC and humanity. The price that Wiles, Paboucek, Cullen and Lupano all paid yesterday. Let's all make sure we don't have to pay it ever again. A stealth frigate will be here to escort you back to Halo Installation 02 once we get a full assessment of the malfunctioning post. Until then, that's all I've got for you."

* * *

Marcus Austal lived about twenty minutes out of Firebase Noble, just on the outskirts of New Alexandria.

After Reach's glassing, many parts of the planet were spared from the scorching from above. The metro area happened to be one of the lucky places where the rebuilding process could start. Remarkably, the city had already boomed to nearly its previous status before the attack. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said for the rest of the planet.

There would be times where he would be gone for days on end without any ample leisure. Stressful for sure.

Then again, what did he have in mind. No immediate family. His parents had died when he was thirteen and he was moved in the care of his aunt until he completed school. Post-graduation saw him joining the military and eventually landing a slot in the Spartan-IV program.

That was one of the drawbacks of having an apartment in his complex. The area was great, with good places to shop and eat, plus it was definitely safe. However, the cost of his rental was quite significant and unfortunately, he had a couple of accounts in a New Corsican bank in his name established by his parents. He had monitored them since he was nineteen and watched them grow into bountiful amounts. Sadly, he couldn't touch the money until he was twenty-four years old. He remembered when his parents created the accounts. They had believed that he would have finished science or math school and have already had his degree to go and inherit the family riches. Nobody knew what had come in that Los Angeles gas attack. Both of his parents were in the lobby when it broke out. Investigations came up cold, but part of him believed that it was no coincidence.

It was for sure that Austal wouldn't make the same mistake for his own family.

He settled into his bed and promptly closed his eyes, falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

**Colonial Natural Resources Department Earth and Luna Headquarters**

**Vancouver, Canada**

Tricia Drestler looked over at her ringing chatter. She gave a sigh upon looking at its ID.

Out of all times the boyfriend Chris tried to call her, it was now, when showing the Vice Minister of the CNRD their newfound servers and database to replace their old headquarter area in London.

The sun was beginning to shine outside, sparkling over the crisp waters of the harbor and the glass buildings across on Vancouver Island reflected the brilliant orange glow.

She excused herself and walked to a secluded area.

"Chris?"

"Hey Trish," His voice was crackled with concern, "I've got something for you?"

"Can it wait? I'm showing the department's number four our new facility."

"No. Just come to the coffee shop across the street." The line clicked dead.

It was odd; Chris knew that she wouldn't be off for another two hours and she told him that she would be among the staff showing the Vice Minister their new place. If the department was to crack down on energy and natural resource use, then getting approval from the higher-ups was essential.

"Trish?" Her boss called out, "Where are you?" He was a stern faced man in a jacket and khakis. Next to him stood the slightly shorter Vice Minister with wire thin glasses and snowy hair.

"I'm here. It's just my boyfriend. He wants me to meet with him at the coffee across the street."

"Really?" Her boss gave her that look, "Are you kidding me? When the Vice Minister's in town?"

Her chatter rang again. The Vice Minister nodded, "Go."

She thanked them and hurried downstairs, her brown high heels clicking on the marble floor.

Trish stood nearly six feet tall with reddish hair and beautiful blue shaded eyes. Her newfound job as one of the administrators for the Canadian area of the department was important, especially with the thought of Chris proposing in the near-future.

The street was bustling with cars, so she waited until one of the crosswalks blinked green and hurried over.

As she prepared to head inside the coffee shop, the door opened and a different man stepped out. He had a bit of stubble on his chin and a couple of small scars running down his jawbone. He was clad in a black windbreaker and his eyes bored into her as she walked past. When he exited, he made no move to keep the door open for her entrance.

Trish rolled her eyes and went inside. She found the blond haired Chris within seconds and sat down in the seat across from him.

"What's this all about?"

"It's no big deal. Why don't we head back to your work?"

She gave him a quizzical stare. Chris seemed a little off today. "What?"

"Let's just go." He stood up and began to exit.

"Chris." She put her hand on his arm, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah." His eyes told her otherwise, but she didn't really want to upset him too much.

They crossed the street back to the building, a massive glass paned face that was preceded by a large courtyard, complete with a hologram of Earth that rotated in the center near a pair of fountains.

Chris grabbed her hand and squeezed it. She looked around, noticing that there was strangely a lack of people around. She could still see the security officer busy at his computer.

The doors automatically opened up, breezing a wall of warm air in their direction.

"Trish." The security officer stood up, "Do you need a guess pass for-" His question was cut off by a brief soft sound as he flinched, hands moving down to see the single bullet wound in his chest.

Trish and Chris turned around; the same man in the black windbreaker leveled a smoking pistol. It thumped again, discharging a bullet straight into Chris' stomach. He let out a sharp yelp of pain and fell down, blood beginning to seep from the wound.

Trish wanted to scream and jumped when another bullet struck the floor a few inches from her feet. The gunman now had the weapon pointed at her face.

"Sweetie, I wouldn't touch him if I were you." He threatened in a cold and hard voice.

Trish glared at him despite her fears of running amok. Sure there had been threats of takeovers and attacks to the department, but nothing this real. She knew like usual ransom gunmen, they wouldn't harm her whether the demand was met or the counter-terror teams. Her limbs began to shake as she cast a long look at her boyfriend, now groaning on the floor with a hand clamped over his wound.

"What do you want from me?" She asked, voice beginning to shake as well.

"Your cooperation. Do as I say and I promise you and your boyfriend will be unharmed any further."

A rattle of gunfire caused a bunch of screams to erupt. This time, five more armed men in similar clothing held submachine guns. They marshaled a group of staff to the stairs.

"Upstairs now!" One of them fired a stream of bullets into the ceiling for motivation.

He motioned for Trish and Chris to join them.

Moving slowly and deliberately, she picked him up, draping his left arm over her shoulder. He grunted, putting pressure on his legs and trying his best to help despite being wounded. The look he gave her completely was disheartening.

"I'm sorry."

The lone gunman holstered his silenced pistol and shoved the dead security officer off the desk chair. He tapped an earpiece on his left side once he had settled in.

"Clear."

* * *

**Been quite a while. I'm such a busy person. XD**

**Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


	7. Takeover II

**November 12, 2557**

Austal clicked the continue icon on his computer to view the next page.

It was now the fifth page he was searching for a place to rent or own and yet nothing turned up. He found irony in having a pair of rich parents who'd wipe their asses with bills and now he is here, trying to find a place where he could be able to save more. Well, dead rich parents, but that didn't help him now.

He was sort of exaggerating. He still managed to pay his bills with plenty left over, but he was beginning to see more of his time spent outside of his place than inside and he wasn't really getting his worth.

His comlink buzzed and he looked over, it was a text message.

_Hey!_

He smiled before picking it up, typing a response in the green holokeys.

_Hey._

_I'm still set to leave on schedule._

_Good. Can't wait._

Austal had just sent the message again when he got a ring, someone was calling him with the ID Captain.

"Austal."

"Marcus, it's Bowman."

No idea how it could've been pulled off, "Captain? How did you get my number?"

"That's not important." Marcus knew he had to listen carefully. It wasn't everyday a 37th Lead called you on your personal comlink. "Can you come into the base tonight? Get enough things to be gone for a couple days."

"I'm not sure. Can it wait?"

"I'm afraid not. This is an urgent matter. Fowler and Pine are already here with me and we're just waiting for you. Your armor and armament's already packed."

Austal looked at his messages, it had to wait. "Alright. See you soon."

"Likewise." The line clicked dead and he sank back into his seat. Of all nights something at work had to crop up, it was this one. He already dreaded the response he was going to get. He thumbed another message, quickly sending it.

_I'm sorry. Work just called._

_Oh. What did they say?_

_We're doing some more analysis. I'm afraid I won't make it today._

_Aww. That's too bad._

_I know. I know. I'm really sorry, but things like these are cropping up left and right. Whoever we're studying is growing restless._

_I guess it's okay. After all, you need all the money you can get._

_Haha. Thanks. Really. I'll make it up to you sometime. I promise._

_Ok. Miss you._

_Miss you too. When I do get a chance, I want to talk with you about something._

_Be careful._

_I will. Thanks._

Austal pocketed the device and slipped on his coat before leaving.

The weather on Reach was already starting to cool down immensely. A light dusting of snow was falling lazily from the gray skies. That light was reflected on the ground giving everything a dull look.

The wind had yet to pick up, but it was there, very notorious for biting away at any exposed skin. Austal wanted nothing more than to head back inside and curl up in his own bed or sit next to one of his heated vents and enjoy a hot coffee.

Being a Spartan sometimes sucked.

* * *

**FFG-173 UNSC **_**Ferdinand **_**en route to Earth**

"Just in time." Bowman gave a lopsided grin as Austal dropped his bag on the empty bunk. The Spartans had been transported out of Firebase Noble and onboard a frigate whose patrol took it by Earth.

"Save it." Austal shot back, "What's going on?"

"Shit's going on that's what." Hades said as he materialized in the holotank at the room's corner. "Why you so upset? Happy to kick some more ass?"

"Not really." He accepted a bottle of water from Ross and took a swig. "You still haven't told me what we are headed to Earth about."

"Just in case nobody has noticed." Fowler declared, arms outstretched, "Austal's date got interrupted and he's pissed off."

"You have a date?" Hades excitedly said, "That's so cool! I wish I had a date. You know, flirting and all. Like Cortana; she was pretty sexy." When he saw that the four Spartans were giving him perplexed looks, he opened his mouth as if to say something else, but saved it for later. "Never mind. Sorry."

"Now that everybody's here," Bowman said, "You're probably wondering why you've been interrupted from all your activities. I got a report hours ago that the Colonial Natural Resources Department's new Earth headquarters was overrun and taken over by armed gunmen. Police and elite counter-terror units in response have been held back due to the prospect of hostages being executed. These guys are well armed and well trained."

"Well trained?" Pine asked, "By who?"

"Some of them are ex-UNSC Marines, Army washouts due to instability or various reasons for discharge. Others are from PMCs and they've all gone dark after some strange event. Done about an hour ago, I got this."

Bowman slid aside the holotank's display and pulled up another image.

The horrifying display showed a hologram of a man lying on the concrete with a bullet wound in his chest and streams of stained blood in his clothing. The unnatural angle his body was positioned suggested that he had been thrown out of the building, no doubt at a high level. The police report already determined that he had been dropped alive and died upon his impact on the hard concrete.

There was a piece of paper attached to his clothing and "WANT TO STOP US? SEND SPARTANS" was scrawled over it by a thick black marker.

"Now you know why we're going to be there." Bowman closed the display, now just leaving Hades on the tank. "We'll be onsite during negotiations for show, but we're not engaging."

"We're not engaging?" Typical Fowler.

"No. The police major onsite believes that she'll be able to negotiate a release for the hostages and resolve the situation peacefully."

"You know that's not going to happen." Austal said, his agreement perking Fowler up as well, "Those guys are armed to the teeth from what we've been told. They're obviously giving the authorities one way to resolve it. Theirs. By the looks of it, they want to fight and kill or be killed by Spartans."

"Makes sense." Pine agreed too, "You kill a Spartan, you break our myth of invincibility. You die by them, shows their lethality. That's why they asked for Spartans in particular."

"Why us?" Austal said, "Why not send _Infinity_'s contingent?"

Hades spoke up, "That's where I have even more to the puzzle." He winked off and brought up a sheet displaying a dossier.

Bowman saw Austal's gray eyes turn icy. "That's exactly what I thought."

"What's going on?"

He turned to Fowler, "That man is Zachary Gustafson."

"Gustafson's a lone wolf terrorist that's been off the grid for years. No real cause for him just recruits mercs and randomly attacks places to instill instability." Hades said, "Thing is, while they look random, they're actually hiding something even deeper."

"Like what?"

Austal had done forensics for this purpose in part of his spare time; this was mainly something he had kept from others close. It was because he did not want anyone else to know. Soon, he knew that he would have to reveal all his secrets eventually.

"Like a certain gas outbreak in Los Angeles nine years ago. At attack killed many and left even more incapable of recovering for life. The mass attack itself was actually done to cover up its true targets."

"Marcus, you don't mean that-"

"I do. The detectives conclusively agree with me that Gustafson is responsible for the death of my parents."

* * *

**Ah yes, you may have noticed something different! I've changed my pen name! Think this is better than MWIM? I'm not sure, so it can be subject to change back to the original if I'm not enjoying it. Hope nobody's disappointed at the fact.**

**As always, thanks for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose!**


	8. Takeover III

**Colonial Natural Resources Department Earth and Luna Headquarters**

**Vancouver, Canada, URNA**

**November 12, 2557**

"Let me make this clear." The man said on the rooftop talking to a twin rotor drone hovering to the side of the building, "I want to have three checks of two billion credits each as well as fail-safe codes for all UNSC ships stationed in independent colonial areas. It better be done in less than eighteen hours or I will slaughter all my hostages in cold-blood in front of everyone. Just try me."

Major Alyssa Boost of the Vancouver Police sighed at the display. The man on the other side was none other than Zachary Gustafson, a notorious freelance bounty hunter known for his excessive aid to many rebel groups on colonies not under UNSC jurisdiction.

From Gustafson's dossier, he had killed his mother when he was only a boy, telling the authorities that he had done it out of boredom. From then on, he had been partially involved in the New Haven nuclear detonation as well as more than a dozen more incidents that took a significant death toll.

There were no records of his psych evaluation in any legitimate government's rosters and any attempts to track him down and explore his location ended in dead ends.

On the center floor of the CNRD facility, there were countless massive servers processing the vast amount of information that the department processed to and from its Earth and Luna facilities. Now there were three armed gunmen inside, all fixing long cylinders to the floor.

Gustafson always had loose contacts in the general area of where he was hired to operate. The small bit was that he had no real idea who his true employers were. They varied from time to time and he had a hacker friend who got no luck in tracking financial transfers to determine their identities. Whoever was ordering him to do all of these really wanted to keep themselves secretive. Then again, he never really asked, didn't matter as long as he got his pay. He was always the scapegoat and it didn't matter. It always amused him that even directly involved in terror incidents had always frustrated authorities because he slipped through their grasp.

Gustafson had long blonde hair, hard blue eyes and a long scar that ran horizontally across his forehead. He was dressed in a black synthetic bulletproof vest and had a pair of optics strapped on top.

He stepped over the fallen body of a security officer and knelt beside one of his men. The similarly armored person was fixing another silver cylinder to the floor.

"Everything going okay?"

"Yeah, we'll be ready in a minute."

"Boss?"

Gustafson turned to see another man holding out a datapad. "Looks like we got company."

At the entrance, the police must have given the counter-terror units the go-ahead to storm the building. A ten man team slowly advanced, opening the doors to enter the lobby that was right underneath.

"Predictable." Gustafson scoffed, "Get those charges in place now!"

He stood up and walked out, "Execute the plan."

Gesturing to two other gunmen, they strode down a nearby staircase that divided into two pathways to surround a large marble pillar before intersecting again. They crouched at the top and waited. It was a clear vantage point and had they been given more time, he would have set up a light machine gun turret to suppress any raid teams. There was virtually no cover and attacking at a surprise could eliminate the whole unit before they had ample time to react.

"Wait for my signal." Gustafson said as he unholstered a pistol. He held up two fingers and his comrades nodded in understanding.

The hostage rescue team was moving in a V pattern, with the team leader at the front.

They crossed over to the desk, sweeping their weapons around and vigilant for any trap.

Gustafson was about to give them one they would never expect.

He held down a fist.

Quickly, he and his men took out stun grenades, primed them and threw the objects at the hostile's feet.

The leader had been so focused on scanning for hostiles on his motion tracker, he failed to notice the flashbangs that fell down.

The grenades detonated, creating an assault on their eyes in blinding white light. He heard screams and knew this was the moment.

While they were stunned, Gustafson and his men rose from their cover, opening fire with their weapons.

Bullets peppered the area as the unit attempted to take cover. Two officers went down almost immediately after multiple of their armor piercing shots punched straight through the useless vests they had. Armor piercing bullets were hard to come by for most terrorists, but Gustafson knew that they would be up against targets with body armor and demanded ample supply of the ammunition.

He fired a couple more shots from his pistol and found a simple box with a button on it. He thumbed the detonator and casually triggered it.

The men had set up electrostatic explosives which caused three thunder booms to happen from above. The entire floor upstairs completely gave way and Gustafson could hear the screams of the hostages from where he was. It was followed by silence from his men tapping a gunshot.

The roof began to crumble, chunks the size of cars fell to the floor. The counter-terror team had been trapped, if not killed underneath the crushing debris.

Gustafson smiled at his victory, which then just faded.

A whisper went through one of the glass panes in the lobby. The white trail from the sniper bullet connected with one of his men as the bullet pulverized his internal organs and completely ignoring his armored vest.

"They got snipers!" His man said.

Gustafson wasted no time mantling back into cover and quickly retreating. A couple of additional sniper shots missed, but he suspected that they had purposely not hit him. He fled back to the main room, making sure they weren't being followed.

Another armed man ran over from the room where the hostages were being held to greet him. He was breathing heavily from all the adrenaline.

"Send two of them to guard the entrance. Stay out of the sniper's sights."

Two armed gunmen nodded and they moved out.

Gustafson left them, punched the elevator button to the roof and emerged on the top. Wind caused his hair to flow behind him as he walked to the edge. The sky was beginning to turn gray and a few droplets of rain began to pelt down.

A police drone moved over the edge. It steadied itself with its buzzing rotors and the nose mounted camera whirred as it focused in on him. He made no move to threaten it, knowing that this was essential for his next move.

"I thought we had a deal Major." Gustafson gritted his teeth, "I said no counter-terror units except Spartans."

"Listen." Boost replied, "We're just going in to see if the hostages were safe."

"They're going to be far from that if you keep this up. I thought I could do things in acts of good faith, but it appears I can't trust you. So therefore, I'm giving you a limit. Get all your snipers to stand down. Either get me my credits, send me Spartans to fight or I execute a hostage in an hour. That will continue every twenty minutes afterwards. Your call major." He held up a watch, turning his hand so that the camera could see the display. "Your time starts." A tap of the button, "Now."

* * *

Boost looked over at her comms officer, "Where are those Spartans?"

"They just left the _Ferdinand_ ma'am on pelican Predator five four five. Five mikes out."

"Patch me to them."

"Yes ma'am."

"Predator five four five, this is Boost. I need immediate contact with your Spartan team."

"Predator five four five here." The pilot replied, "Transferring you to the Spartans."

Onboard the pelican, Eon had already been inside their MJOLNIR armor getting what intel they had on the hostage situation.

"Spartans?" A female voice came through the cabin. The hologram of a middle aged woman in police uniform with the insignia of a major was projected in the center.

The team already knew that she was in command and Bowman took an instant disliking to her due to a strong adherence to protocol. If it meant they'd complete the mission, he didn't mind bending the rules, as long as it was just. To her, that was intolerable. Then again, she was police and not military, but it still did little to change his opinions. He knew that he would have the upper hand, but controversies between the two were inevitably going to erupt and he would do all he could to maintain control on his behalf.

Bowman stood, "This is Spartan fireteam Eon lead. You must be Major Boost."

"That's correct." Boost nodded, "I'm here to provide you with more details on your targets."

"Yeah we know who he is already." Another Spartan piped up in an annoyed manner beside Bowman. The latter looked down, "Austal, save it. Major?"

"Affirmative. The raid is being led by a Zachary Gustafson, responsible for multiple notorious terror events in the wake of the Covenant war. He has more than a dozen men inside, all armed with military grade weaponry. He's demanded Spartans to come to their rescue and I suspect he wants a showdown with them."

"Ma'am." Fowler spoke, "We ain't like your typical Spartans. Where are they located?"

"The majority of the tangos went up to the twenty first floor and bombed the server room on the fourteenth. Because it was situated right above the lobby area, it had crushed a team I sent up to raid the building."

Bowman arched an eyebrow, "You sent a team already?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Only an commander with a foolish mindset would do that." Boost stiffened, not one to take criticism. "You're talking about one of the most wanted men by the UNSC. Gustafson always stays a step ahead of law enforcement, so for one, he expected you to do that and he probably prepared so that it would be clear that only Spartans could solve the problem. Not only have you infuriated him and made our schedule tougher, but you also sent five good men straight to their deaths without and intel of what's going on."

"Eon lead, you're not an analyst."

"No." Bowman cut her off, "Major, I'm not. Keep doing whatever you're doing if you want the hostages' blood on your hands. If not, just step back and let the Spartans take care of it. It's quite apparent you've not had much experience dealing with volatile terrorists."

"You're not to take command of this crisis. Captain Bowman, you may be a Spartan, but I'm in charge here."

"When my team is on the ground, I am in command of what they do. My squadmates report to me and I report to my unit commander. If you have any problems with that, you can take it up with him." The team all knew that Tyrant well supported their intervention and would put on his "take-shit-from-nobody" attitude.

"Ma'am," Pine had said nothing during the conversation and interrupted when he sensed an argument beginning to brew, "Just continue to provide us with intel that we'll need during our infiltration. We'll get Gustafson, in handcuffs or a body bag."

Boost nodded, "I understand. I'll continue trying to stall and negotiate. Get it done." She shot a glare at Bowman, who shrugged it off and winked out from the display.

"You in a bad mood today Cap?" Fowler asked.

"No. It's just that the Major pisses me off." Bowman brought up a blue schematic of the CNRD building. "We deal with the incident, maybe we'll minimize any interaction with her. Looks like the tangos entered through an underground entrance from the parking garage across the street. We'll enter there and make our way up to the twenty first floor. We got an hour to get this done."

"Eon, ETA to drop zone is sixty."

"Roger that Predator."

Gustafson began to hear a falcon's rotor whipping and saw the black dot of the approaching aircraft cresting over a couple of taller buildings.

The corners of his mouth curled into a smile.

"Mr. Gustafson," One of the men was behind him with an assault rifle and a blue duffel. "Your equipment."

Never had the terrorist went up against Spartans. He had killed everyone else though, men, women, children, police, soldiers. Now he was about to add Spartans to the list and he would forever be immortalized as the one who would begin to deteriorate their myth of invincibility.

Of course, he was well aware that a direct confrontation would lead to an unfair advantage on their behalf. Doing so only ended up in his death. The Spartans were adaptable foes, so he had to be ready for their every move.

Time to even the odds.

He unzipped the bag and took out the brand new N6 Spartan laser. Thanks to an earlier stolen shipment, he now had his hands on the perfect weapon for destruction. Sure, a rocket launcher such as the M41 could do the job, but using such a piece of high technology could instill nervousness on the opposition.

The laser's pointer began to blink as he held down the charging trigger.

The pilot saw the charging glow too late.

"Look out!" He gave a brief shout before suddenly the left rotor on the falcon exploded into flames.

The Spartans barely managed to hold on, thanks to their augmented reflexes. The heat blistered from the side and now the uneasy motions from loss of control began to knot their stomachs.

"The hell was that?"

"Engine's gone! I'm losing it!"

The falcon lurched downwards and began to spiral out of control.

* * *

**I have a feeling that Bowman and the Major are going to continue butting heads.**

**I'm finding it more difficult to get chapters out not only on time, but long enough so that it isn't boring. Right now, I'm no longer writing ahead, just creating things and proofreading on the fly. If I do get back into my typical rhythm of writing 1-2 chapters ahead, it might be a while before the next one comes out. Not entirely sure of what's going to happen. We'll see.**

**Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


	9. Takeover IV

**Colonial Natural Resources Department Earth and Luna Headquarters**

**Vancouver, URNA**

**November 12, 2557**

Bowman let out a groan as he shifted uncomfortably in the wreckage.

When the laser had taken the falcon for a spin, the pilot had managed to divert the falling aircraft away from the highest concentration of civilians, many of which were witnessing the entire hostage crisis, drawn by the red glow. Their uncertainty turned into panic when they saw the laser beam leap out to blast an incoming aircraft's engine to smithereens.

The pilot crashed the aircraft onto the roof of an adjacent parking garage to the building that shared an underground tunnel with the CNRD headquarters. This action had saved many lives of civilians, but it claimed the pilot's.

With a grunt, Bowman kicked off a piece of wreckage that had pinned him against the craft's floor and crossed over to the cockpit, already knowing the grim fate of its operator.

"Shit."

Upon impact, the pilot had been thrown forward, an action that had snapped his spinal cord and lay in an unnatural way against the glass. It was a gruesome death, but still quick nonetheless.

Bowman tore open the hatch and wrapped his hand around the pilot's neck. He felt a chain and yanked it free. The family of this brave man were going to get a letter very soon. Another drop of blood upon Gustafson's tainted hands.

"Eon do you copy?!" Boost was practically yelling, "Eon come in!"

"Major, this is Eon Lead. Our team is intact, but Predator five four five is KIA."

Silence on the other line, "Understood. Head to our rally point and our stakeout teams will take it from there."

"Negative. We're moving in on Gustafson. We have our orders."

"And I'm giving you another order. Stand down."

"Major, this situation is getting worse by the second. Gustafson is as legit as they come. He's pretty damn serious. One of my team members is affected by his actions and I'm not letting my own orders get compromised by yours."

Boost sighed, "If you're correct, this is more of a vendetta than a normal op?"

"No." Bowman's voice turned cold, "It's purely our mission."

"Stand down now Captain Bowman!"

"Negative."

"Listen lady," Fowler was helping Austal dig his own way out of the Falcon and Pine was nowhere in direct sight, although their HUDs showed that he had exited the aircraft and was scoping around a few minutes before Bowman came to. "You had my respect as an officer and you still do, but it's quickly deteriorating. We're Spartans, we complete our mission and we shove aside anyone who stands in our way, mentally and physically."

"Gustafson's going to cut off all your communications very soon." Bowman added, "You want to know last time a Spartan team got crossed? Go and look closely at the fate of General Jagardere."

"Captain Bow-" Suddenly the connection cut out, followed by nothingness. Any attempt to mess with their communicators proved no useful either.

"Speak of the devil." Pine quipped.

"Major?" Bowman tried again, "Major do you read?" He gave a sigh, switching to external speakers. "Comms are down. Use external speakers only. Ross, back on me."

"Roger that."

Five minutes later the team crouched in front of the burning falcon.

"Okay." Bowman said, "We go in quietly through the rear entrances and make our way up the stairs. Once we get a better analysis at what we're up against, we'll adapt. Everybody good?"

"Ready."

"Fowler's good."

"Roger that."

"Double check your equipment."

The Spartans searched everything, careful not to overlook a single detail, as that could come back to bite. Specifically in the ass end.

"Oh hell."

"Fowler?"

"Yeah." The Spartan yanked out his camo module, it now had several shards of metal upon crashing and half of it seemed to be squished, leaving nothing but compressed pieces of circuits and mechanics "Busted."

"Mine too." Pine showed his equally damaged one.

"Better not be all of us." Bowman grumbled. He saw his own, "Shit. Austal?"

"Mine's okay. It is a little damaged, but it still works." He triggered it, showing fairly good operating. "Can't say the same for rest of my armor."

"Let's not get into forensics here." Bowman concluded, "We're going to split up. Gustafson's likely hijacked the surveillance system, so he'll see us coming from a mile away. Austal, looks like you're going solo inside. Rest of you on me, we're headed to the rendezvous point."

"Are you kidding me?" Fowler cried, "You're all trading punches with the major and now you're going to kneel down?"

"Fowler, this is tense stuff. Lock it up."

"Yes sir." His words rang hollow as his body language still remained tense. Already, issues were evident between the two.

"Pine, you and Fowler head to the rendezvous point and tell the major that we'll catch up."

"Affirmative."

Bowman pulled Austal aside, "You ready for this kid?"

The younger Spartan was shorter than his captain, but he was just as determined, "Just tell me what I need to do."

"I'm putting Ross on overwatch as long as you're traversing through the main entrance face of the building. Since our HUDs still can work, mark targets to kill or unharm. This goes against our fallback orders and we could get in deep trouble for this. However, the aftermath is even worse if we do nothing to stop it. Stopping Gustafson is your top priority."

"Roger that." Austal's weapons had silencers on the barrels, so he'd be able to somewhat stealthily kill his enemies. His usual weapon of choice was the M57 PDW, a rather new bullpup fully automatic carbine and submachine gun hybrid. Compact and easy to use, this weapon was years ahead of modern weapons research and thus was expensive to field, which was why Spartan-IVs got early access to the new ordinance. The magazine held forty rounds in a standard box cartridge.

"Okay let's get going. Good luck out there kid."

* * *

Bowman waved down the major when she met the Spartans at the rally point. Despite the tension filled air between them, she looked somewhat relieved to see they were alive. Her eyes began to show fatigue along with all the stress that had occurred within the day.

"Where's the fourth Spartan?"

Fowler exchanged a glance with his captain, "He had crashed inside the target building. Says he's still going to finish the job."

"I thought I ordered everyone to fall back."

"Well I'm going to have to punish him quite severely once he's done."

* * *

Inside the lobby, Austal slowly walked forward, training his eyes everywhere. His motion tracker was cold which meant that either they were unmoving or it had been tampered with during the crash. It was most likely the former.

The linking tunnels were made of concrete, stretching across enough for two cars to go on a twin lane road. Lighting was done by a usual fashion of lights all connected by a long tube of gray plastic containing wires to power them.

This complex was used to aid in the sheltering of an event of fire or other natural disaster. Now it served as the Spartan's only way to enter without being spotted, even if he used the cloaking, the tangos would instantly know something wasn't right when seemingly nothing opened the door to the lobby.

Also, several other corridors branched out to several other buildings in the area, but they seemed to remain silent. He could tell by the shade of the concrete that the CNRD's branch of the complex was newer.

Following the waypoint on his HUD, Austal came across three doors on each side with the entrance to the facility another hundred yards ahead. The six entrances were painted black and looked reinforced, all of them had a small keypad on their side.

The CNRD had likely kept these vaults as guarded secrets for valuable things and information.

None of them looked like they had been used within the past hours, so he didn't bother.

Continuing up the stairs, he found himself at the lobby floor of the facility. Looking over from his concealed position, he activated his camo and crossed over.

A huge pile of debris lay in the center and cases of spent brass littered parts of the floor. This was part of a battle and the grim fate of the SWAT group the major must have sent in prematurely.

Gustafson hadn't established any overwatch to the lobby and Austal crossed over with no trouble at all. It seemed very easy that he was going unnoticed.

Now he was beginning to wonder if he had been deliberately let this far. Was it a trap?

Couldn't be. Gustafson wanted to battle Spartans and a battle he would get. Except this time, Austal was on the winning side.

The man had been responsible for the gas attack in that Los Angeles hotel that day. His parents were the targets, although dozens of others perished as well, many of them with backgrounds that could question who the true target of the attack was.

He had never really had a good relationship with them in the first place. They lived in the western part of the URNA during his childhood after moving from New Corsica, the colony world he had been born at. Most of the dissent between them was negligence. The reason they had been targeted was because they were influential diplomats. Both Steven and Loretta Austal were fondly known to settle even the most cynical disputes. Sometimes, even the best can't break tensions and they knew when negotiations were meant to be applied.

That being said, they had put more care and attention to their own careers than to him. He was an only child and in his youth was quiet, not social around others. Of course, as he went into intermediate and high school this changed and he started to come out of his shell, but he continued to remain somewhat distant.

The deaths of his parents unnerved him. While in most children it would be a time of mourning and emotional trauma, it actually seemed to define him more into the person he was today.

He would take down Gustafson, dead or alive. The madman was going to get the battle against a Spartan he had always dreamed of. It would be done, but not for his parents.

Crossing the edges of the lobby, he moved towards the elevator. Deciding against calling down, he began to search for a staircase. Activating it would telegraph his approach and ready the hostiles for him. If not by a hail of automatic fire, then many well placed grenades could be thrown in the movable room and easily kill him.

He halted short, just in front of a narrower hallway as his enhanced hearing began to pick up. Even though Gustafson may have rushed to take the building, he left many places unsearched and would conduct searches for hostages and routing any attempts to retake it from their grasp. His motion tracker had three blips in a steady movement in his direction. Activating camo, he vanished from sight, remaining perfectly still and practically invisible to even attentive individuals.

"I heard something."

"Nah, you're just hearing shit."

"No I swear. Came from over there."

"Then shut up! Can't let them know we're coming!"

The noise volume they made dropped to a lower level as the men tried to silence their approach as best they could. At their quietness, most people could not detect them.

But Austal could.

Finally, he saw the two black clothed men arrive at the end of the longer hallway. They had simple visors on and cradled MA2 assault rifles. Although dated, it remained rugged and reliable, now commonly found in the hands of rogues and freelancers. Still, within the UNSC as of 2557, it was still in service, albeit in very limited numbers.

Austal shifted his focus on their interest from their conversation all about Gustafson. Although they could be saying something vital, it was more of complaints about their boss. Something he kept his recorder on for.

His camo was plenty to make him invisible to the tangos as they walked closer. The set of doors down the hallway were occasionally opened.

His motion tracker suddenly detected more blips. At first he thought it was damaged too, but then it appeared a second time.

The tangos were getting closer to them as well.

The thought clicked in his mind as he slowly moved in that direction, remaining thoughtful to stay out of sight.

One of the gunmen swept the final door.

"Nothing in here."

"Are you sure?" His partner asked right behind him.

"Yeah. There's nothing."

"I'm not convinced."

"Like we have any tools to search. Boss will give us guns, but won't even give us lights or night vision."

"What can I say?" His partner waved his rifle casually, "Budget cuts suck." This got a chuckle from both of them. "C'mon, I don't wanna miss his next starring moment with the authorities."

Marcus moved to the door they had searched the moment they had turned their backs. His hearing picked up something, causing him to listen more carefully.

Breathing.

"What was that?" A voice whispered.

Austal looked down as he scanned the room. He came face to face of what had alerted Gustafson's men in the first place.

* * *

**Wow. Seriously, it felt like yesterday when I last updated. I wasn't wrong when I said updates will be longer in the span between. Once again, I'm sorry...I keep apologizing for the delays don't I?**

**Anyway, I appreciate all of your patience in waiting. Hopefully I didn't lose anybody!**

**Thanks for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose!**


	10. Takeover V

**Colonial Natural Resources Department Earth and Luna Headquarters**

**Vancouver, URNA**

**November 12, 2557**

"Who are-"

"Quiet!" Austal hissed as he firmly clamped a hand over the other person's mouth. In the distance, they heard more male voices drift from the hallways. He felt the person relax and removed his glove to reset it underneath his M57.

Remaining perfectly still, he allowed the camo to cycle again and he seemed to vanish in one swift pulse that ran down from his head to his legs until he had disappeared completely.

The module was the newest version thanks to breakthroughs of reverse engineering Covenant versions employed by the sangheili special operations. Although the UNSC counterpart, designated as the T-4 Advanced Refraction Dissonance Modifier/Camouflage was the best in service, it was expensive to produce and so far, the 37th was the only Spartan unit to employ the modules. In addition, it still wore off the faster Austal moved or fired. They had yet to produce a module that kept the user concealed while performing such actions.

If there was one good thing, it was that when the module's battery was exhausted, it would then begin to draw power from his MJOLNIR armor while it recharged itself.

The damage of the other three Spartans might mean that they would have to be outfitted with the standard issue until replacements could be ordered.

The voices had faded and Austal finally deactivated his camo, allowing himself to slowly fade into view. He looked over at the person who he had silenced before and crept towards them, keeping a careful eye on his motion tracker.

He was in a small conference room and the dark shapes huddled all along the back wall were people that hid during the takeover.

As part of any building's security in the sense of armed gunmen marching up to overtake, instructions were to hide until an all clear was given and authorities were able to debrief those involved about the situation.

There were many places where it went south. An incident on Reach before its collapse had civilians evacuating after an all-clear was given, only to realize that the gunmen were actually the ones who gave the signal, fooling them into going straight into their massacre. A live video feed mysteriously leaked past ONI's sensors and was a gruesome display that shocked the public.

Never again would that ever happen.

Or so Austal hoped.

He knelt down next to the group, flicking on the safety of his weapon, a sign that he meant no harm.

"Hello."

"Who are you?" The man stammered, finally able to say it without his interruption.

"My name's Austal. I'm a Spartan. I'm here to get all of you out of here."

"How are you going to do that?" Someone else asked.

"I don't know."

"Aren't there more Spartans."

"Unfortunately not. I'm all that was sent." Austal said, ignoring the frightened griping that followed that even a Spartan couldn't fight all the terrorists. He was right, Gustafson and his baddies wouldn't stand a chance.

"Listen," He began, "I'm sent in here to neutralize those who have taken control of the place. I need to know where they went."

"Okay." The man said, "I'll tell you everything." His breathing suddenly became irregular as he tried to recall what had happened.

Austal saw his predicament and reached up to remove his helmet.

That's when he heard the voices again. The group suddenly fell silent again and he disappeared in a simple pulse that covered his armor. Slowly, he crept to the side of the door, now aware of the multiple pings coming from his nine.

"See I told you that there are still people down here. Passed them on my last patrol, but we didn't have enough guys to round everyone up."

"Yeah, they'll be scared shitless."

Austal now began to see their outlines as they jogged down the hall. He counted five men, all armed with assault rifles.

They halted at the front door and one illuminated a flashlight, casting a single bright beam of light into the dark room.

"Well well well." He snickered as he knelt down in front of the huddled group. "You should know that it's safe to come out by now."

In his position in the shadows, Austal saw that the man had been shot in the stomach and his shirt was stained crimson from the torso down.

Countless times have nagged him to lunge as soon as the enemy presented themselves, but at the same time, he fought the urge. There would be a time to strike out, but now wasn't it.

This was another one of the countless hostage situations he had been in and it had no less pressure than the previous ones. This time it was much different. He had no backup, no support. The only thing he could trust was himself to get it entirely done. One slip up would mean his own demise and likely all the hostages inside this building. He shifted from his position, careful not to make his presence known.

"Get up now." One of them said to the group. When they remained glued to their area, he fired a round into the side of the wall. The loud sound of brass certainly made many of them jump or scream in fright.

Instantly, one of the terrorists reached over, hauling a woman up. The rest soon followed and for a second, Austal had thought that they were just another group that had hidden from the gunmen.

Another terrorist shined a light into each of their new hostages as they passed the door. He paused when he saw an older man wearing thin glasses and white hair.

"Stay here." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a datapad. He held it still in front of the man's face and brightened when he was done. Austal realized that it was a facial recognition scanner.

"Just the man we were looking for." He said, "The Vice Minister."

"What do you want from me?"

"Me?" The gunmen chuckled, "It's my boss who needs you. I'm just doing my job, just like you. Honestly, it's nothing personal."

"You won't get anything. Trust me; threaten me with death and torture, but I've seen it all. You won't break me."

"Like I said. I won't be the one to come to your aid when you cry for help."

The terrorist put the barrel to the Vice Minister's back and began to escort him out.

Now was the time to strike out.

Austal unsheathed his knife, a simple tool, yet he possessed incredible skill as a knife fighter. He had only began martial arts when he had joined the UNSC which was only for a year before being requisitioned for the Spartans. Knife combat was among his specialties.

In one swift motion, he flipped it around so that the blade was in his fingers. His hand came down in an ax chopping motion as he calmly released it from his grasp. They weren't his specialty sting knives he normally carried, but it still performed its job admirably.

His camo deactivated, Austal had already shifted his focus to the other tangos, knowing that the sound of the knife sinking into his original target's back had already sealed his fate. His pistol was in his hand and he rushed against the wall, a clear line of fire wasn't visible with all the hostages spread between the Gustafson's men.

He scrambled partly up the wall, just as they began to realize they were under attack. Two of them never got a chance to retaliate. He quickly set them both within the aperture sights of his pistol and took them both out with a single shot, the weapon's specialized cartridge designed to bypass body armor, and thankfully they weren't wearing any.

Crouching low, he struck out as he stood up again, fist catching the next tango straight in the jaw. The force from the blow had flung him backwards where he crashed against a frame on the wall and slumped over unmoving.

His presence known, all the hostages in the escort immediately got flat on the floor, a mandatory procedure should there ever be a gunfight in the vicinity. He was almost baffled by their utter calmness when doing so, but saw some of the bodies trembling as fear would often take over any other logic in a situation like this, no matter how many drills were conducted prior.

Austal sprinted to the first tango he had taken down when he heard the sound of a cocking rifle. The last terrorist had aimed down and the pressure on his rifle's trigger was increasing.

The knife cleanly slipped out where it was buried and he tossed it as easily as a throwing disc. It arced through the air at a speed faster than the eye could follow and made a wet _thwack._

Blood began to seep through the clothes of the impaled man as his eyes went wide and he finally toppled over.

With all the tangos down, Austal activated his camouflage and observed his motion tracker to see if anyone was coming afterwards. It wouldn't be long before Gustafson found out about his missing men and sent even more his way. He was holed up higher with another group and would need a different tactic.

Deactivating his cloaking, Austal strode to the end and knelt down in an alert position.

"Everyone okay?"

The group of people looked over to him, whispering to one another in awe. Perhaps they have never seen a Spartan before, that or they were still astonished to see his flawless elimination of a half dozen men all armed to the teeth in a matter of seconds.

The Vice Minister that was being heckled by the terrorist earlier looked over everyone else that was hiding with him stepped forward, "Yes we're all fine. Thanks to you Spartan."

"Good." Austal looked around.

"Vice Minister Clark." He extended his hand, which Austal firmly shook, "I head the future operations for the Colonial Natural Resources Department."

"Marcus Austal…Spartan. I'm here to get all of you out."

"You're the only one?"

"I'm all that's left." He lied, "I'm under orders to clear out the tangos and free the remaining hostages."

"Understood." Clark said, "Still, it troubles me how they managed to get past our security."

"We'll worry about that when this is all over." The Spartan finished, however the exact same questions were lingering in his mind, "I saw the gunmen say that you're important to their boss. Any idea what Gustafson's interest is in you?"

"No. Perhaps it's on data, but the CNRD seldom acts in self-interest."

"What about secrets?" When Clark gave him a blank stare, he continued, "Everyone has their secrets Vice Minister."

"I couldn't tell you because I have no idea. I'm sorry."

"Don't sweat it." Marcus dismissed the conversation, knowing his frustration at not being helpful, "We're on the twelfth floor. I want everyone here to head to the main meeting room and stay there. Once it's all clear, we'll send police and counter-terror teams to extract you."

"What about you?"

"Once I've escorted you all there, I'm going to confront the leader," Austal said as he looked over his weapon. "And find out why he's doing all of this."

* * *

Out across the street on the rooftop of an adjacent building, Pine casually observed through a pair of optics as Gustafson conversed with one of his men. He had no manners or sense of civility, especially when waving a handgun right in front of his lackey's face. No doubt they knew the situation was falling apart. He found it rather amusing because many times in holo-movies that involved terrorist takeovers were that the longer it took, the more tense the situation got. Add a growing distrust between the groups and it was possible that a rescue team wasn't even necessary. Many times evil forces turned on one another, doing enough work for themselves.

Sure enough, the hostages were scared out of their minds being all in the corner and watched by four men all armed with MA2 rifles, weapons that now had limited use in UNSC spec ops forces.

Bowman was next to him, watching another section.

Their comms crackled again, the countless time since the jamming and suddenly they stopped, allowing silence to descend across their helmets.

Knowing the same fact, both Spartans exchanged a glance that still carried on a conversation despite the polarization of the visors concealing their faces.

"Clear?" They heard Major Boost's voice over the comms again. To his relief, Bowman was actually glad he could be able to stay touch with support. "Eon, this is the Major. Come in."

"Could it be a trap?" Pine asked. Unless Austal neutralized the jammer, they wouldn't turn it off for no reason at all.

"Doubt it. If this goes south, then we'll be ready." Bowman switched on his own channel, "Major, this is Eon Lead. Go ahead."

"Gustafson's halted the jamming sequence. I want you to organize your team and prepare to retake the facility. Have you heard from your man yet?"

"Negative, Eon Four is still dark."

Boost sighed, "We'll have to assume he's dead."

"I won't until I see a body." Bowman cut the line and turned to Ross next to him, "She comes back online, keep her busy." He opened a private channel to Austal, noting that it took little time to connect, "Austal, do you read?"

"Captain? I thought we were jammed."

"Your comms have been off and even through that I was unable to get you on. What's your position?"

"Heading upstairs to where Gustafson is holed up. What am I up against?"

"Plenty. If we go unnoticed, Ross and I can lend marksman support."

"Understood. We may have to take Gustafson alive though."

Bowman's body turned to ice, "Why?"

"This operation runs further than just a typical takeover." Austal explained.

"He killed your parents."

"I know, but for this situation today, I don't think their aim is to uncover the CNRD's data centers."

* * *

**More than what meets the eye! The answer might be closer than what Eon thinks.**

**I wasn't kidding when I said that there would be bigger gaps in updates. Nearly three weeks and the last update felt like it was done yesterday!**

**Thank you very much for reading and reviewing. You give my writing purpose.**


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